


at least he adores

by phemonoe16



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Childhood Friends, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29228058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phemonoe16/pseuds/phemonoe16
Summary: thanatos is stressed out about work, just about work, definitely not about anything else. /especially/ not about the burgeoning feelings for his best (and only?) friend.a retelling of their relationship post-Persephone’s return.alternatively: au where zag and crew actually rest }:)
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 99





	1. Even Death Needs a Break

Lately, Thanatos had found solace in an unexpected place: Persephone’s Underworld garden.

He stole moments between reapings to wander among the blue-black trees, admire the plump fruit that hung from above like ruby-eyed stars. For the God of Death, he felt strangely content to be around this tiny, overgrown pocket of life. Gone were the echoes of finicky souls facing Lord Hades’ displeasure, or the laments of the dying in their last moments on the surface, and in the silence Thanatos felt his burdens ease away into cool night air. As if he were rustling in the wind, too.

Thanatos was used to change-- was quite the harbinger of it-- and yet, the latest changes in his life had left him perpetually and inexplicably uneasy. The Queen’s return to the Underworld had marked a shift within the entire house for the better, that much was clear. But Thanatos felt something more. 

He could remember clearly the moment he saw Lord Hades, Persephone, and their son walk together into the Great Hall, reunited. There was a sharp pull in his chest that had left him alarmed. It took him minutes to register that it was joy, more potent than he had ever felt before. But why? He paced the garden’s perimeter now, retracing the memory through his steps. He still could not devise the origin of this feeling, nor the reason for its depth. 

A bright voice from behind, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Than?”

Thanatos turned. The Master’s son stood at the door, staring at him curiously. His sword lay limply at his side. 

“Zagreus.” He had not tried to sound cold, and yet he winced as the word came out of his mouth. He cleared his throat. _Try again._ “What are you doing here?”

Zagreus blinked. “I was just-- I saw you from--” He glanced over his shoulder and pointed. “I was heading to my room.”

Thanatos felt his cheeks burn. “Oh. Right.” They lingered in a standoff for a few seconds. Zagreus cocked his head to the side, like he always did. The mannerism had always reminded Thanatos of a head of Cerberus doing the same. 

“What are _you_ doing here, Than?” Zagreus asked. _In my mother’s garden._

Thanatos looked at the floor. “Ah. It’s just been...” He paused, unsure of how to fill in the rest. Distractedly, he pushed his bangs away. “Work has just been taxing, lately, I guess. People die and they die and I am left to clean up the messes.” 

Thanatos stopped. He had not meant to sound this bitter, and now he realized Zagreus was looking at him with something akin to pity on his face. The last thing he wanted. He looked away. “Anyways, Zag, it seems like you’ve been making it out almost every time, now. I see you washed up here less and less.”

A small smile flashed across Zagreus’ face. “Well, it is my job now.” Thanatos could sense his brimming pride, though he tried to hide it. He was a god, after all. “But you’re my secret weapon, Than.”

Thanatos scoffed, but was grateful that it suppressed the smile he had felt rise in himself too. “If your escape attempts hinge on me taking out a few Gorgons in Asphodel every now and then, then I’d advise you to make a better strategy.”

Zagreus laughed, and then his face grew serious. “Still,” he pressed, his voice strange. “It’s nice to see you out there, Thanatos. Like I said before.”

Thanatos did not know what to say. He felt his heart in his throat, a wall rising within him he could not push down. He opened his mouth and heard himself mumble something dismissive, then mention mortals on the surface, how he needed to get back to work.

 _Isn’t that what I’m running from?_ he thought helplessly, but there was no stopping it now. He saw Zagreus’ mouth opened for an instant, his face bathed in a flash of green light. Then Thanatos found himself on the surface, overlooking the sea.

He stood there with his muscles tensed, frustration rolling through every inch of his body. Then, he forced his shoulders to relax. He pushed back his hair, readjusted his grip on his scythe, and tuned himself into the cries of the doomed that resonated around the world, the shallow breaths of the ill. 

There was work to do.


	2. Best of Men, Best of Warriors

Over the next few days, the dead did not rest. Thanatos saw to that himself; he tore souls from their vessels mercilessly, ravaged hospital beds and battlefields alike. With every reaping, a surge of ruthlessness gave way to great exhaustion. He felt his bones grow wearier, his breath tightening in his chest. As if he, immortal in all his graces, was somehow dying, too. 

After his latest excursion, Thanatos couldn’t bring himself to venture out again. He needed a break. Materializing in the Great Hall, Thanatos felt the House of Hades’ gloom settle heavily on him like a raincloud. Lord Hades glanced up from his paperwork momentarily, acknowledging Thanatos with only a stare. Thanatos nodded politely at his master. Turning away, he sighed. 

He passed into the West Hall, where he heard his name ring out. “Thanatos, a moment?”

Achilles stood mere feet away, his expression welcoming. Thanatos resisted the urge to glance around; he had definitely heard his name, yet it left him confused and a little concerned. He had no quarrel with Achilles, but he had barely exchanged words with the demigod. He approached. “Hello, Achilles.”

“Is everything alright?” Achilles asked him. “I do not wish to presume, but you seem tired, as of late.”

Thanatos closed his eyes to the words. He pictured what he might look like to the others in the House. Was it truly that obvious? Had the bags under his eyes grown even larger? He didn’t want to know.

He opened his eyes. “I am well, Achilles, thank you.”

Achilles smiled softly. The lines around his eyes looked worn, kind. “I am not so foolish to compare myself to the God of Death himself,” he said, “but I have had some experience in death-dealing long ago, myself. It is a taxing affair.”

Thanatos felt his grip on the scythe tighten. He opened his mouth, but Achilles was not done. “Though something tells me it is more than work that is causing you grief.”

Thanatos’ eyes snapped to Achilles, who still gazed at him calmly. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“The Master’s son has seemed troubled, lately, too,” Achilles said quietly.

Heat rose to Thanatos’ cheeks, but he kept himself composed. “Has he said anything to you?” he asked. He wondered why he did not deny anything. Perhaps basking in the infinite wisdom that Achilles exuded, he knew unconsciously it would not fool him.

“Well, he’s mentioned for the past few times he hasn’t seen you out there,” Achilles mused. Thanatos had been avoiding these encounters on purpose, but something about imagining Zagreus say this hurt. Distance had seemed the right thing to do; now, he was not so sure. 

As if he read his thoughts, Achilles shifted his spear from one hand to the other and shrugged. “Your friendship with Zagreus is very precious to you both,” he said matter-of-factly. “You... should not waste such a thing so hastily.”

Achilles’ voice was tender, and his gaze shifted, as if he was heeding his own words, too. Thanatos did not press. “Thank you, Achilles,” he said honestly, and the man nodded at him before parting. 

Thanatos hovered in the West Hall for a while longer, staring out into the Styx. He knew Achilles was right, and his heart brightened at the thought of meeting Zagreus on the battlefield again. It was exciting, of course, and there was something nice about rewarding him with the gift of a centaur heart, something about how his face lit up as if Thanatos had gifted him liberation itself.

Sometimes, Thanatos felt himself slowing on purpose, letting Zagreus rack up kills so he could give him his prize. 

It was a secret he would never admit, of course. He would take that to his grave. 


	3. Truce

Thanatos found himself in Elysium.

“Took you long enough,” a voice called from below.  _ His voice.  _ Zagreus was grinning at him, this time brandishing a bow.

For a moment, Thanatos forgot about everything and grinned back. “Miss me?”

Zagreus opened his mouth, but Thanatos would never hear what he would have said. Zagreus’ eyes widened as a Flame Wheel charged right into his side and exploded into a shower of sparks. Thanatos laughed, listening to Zagreus yelp and curse. Then, he readied his scythe. 

Setting aside that first blow, Thanatos soon realized that the son of Hades had gotten stronger, and that he didn’t even need to pretend to be slow. Hovering over his shadowy ring, he watched Zagreus survey the room swiftly, stepping around enemies as if he were dancing. After reaching the outskirts of the area, he nocked arrow after arrow on his bow and deftly picked off his foes one by one. 

A single voidstone disintegrated in Thanatos’ grasp, and it was over. He stared at Zagreus, who was barely panting. “Outdid me there once again,” he managed.

Zagreus flashed one of his quick, foxlike smiles.  _ That pride, again. _ “Don’t sound so surprised, Than.”

“Tsch. First I found you, I was certain you had no chance at all.”

The smiles slid off of Zagreus’ face and was replaced with what Thanatos could only describe as a pout. “Everyone’s quick to underestimate me, it seems,” he said, frowning.

Thanatos suppressed a smile. “Well, it seems you’ve proven them wrong, for the most part.”

“Hm.” Zagreus seemed to warm to this. He continued: “Anyways, Than, it’s been a while.” 

He left things unsaid, but Thanatos understood.  _ Where have you been?  _ He tried not to wince at the elephant in the room. Zagreus’ tone was light, but he could tell something darker was brewing beneath the surface. But Zagreus wasn’t done. 

“You should know I always welcome your appearances out here, Than. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.” Zagreus spoke the words genuinely: an implicit offer of peace. Silently, Thanatos was thankful.

“I’d say that’s accurate,” Thanatos said, then paused. How could he convey that he was accepting this olive branch? He ran a hand through his bangs, piecing together words. “But these things are never easy. I know I have to do my job. But I don’t have to keep on helping you, like this.” 

Zagreus’ face darkened. “What, you’re telling me this is it? I prove myself to you or something and you’re just going to leave me to my own devices?”

Thanatos balked, heat flushing into his cheeks. “No, you deadbeat, I’m telling you the opposite! Why do you think I keep showing up?!” 

They glared at each other. Internally, Thanatos recognized how ridiculous this situation was. But he was also acutely aware of the blood pounding in his ears, how his thoughts had scrambled into an illegible mess. He took a deep breath.  _ Try again _ . “You may not need me, Zagreus,” he said, “but I will take these opportunities to help. I take it that’s all right.”

Zagreus’ expression softened. He kicked the ground awkwardly. “It is all right.”

Thanatos gave him a curt nod, and then disappeared before he could wreak any more havoc. Appearing in the House of Hades once again, he stole to a corner and let himself calm down. 

Soon, the adrenaline drained from his body, and his exhaustion returned in greater force than he had felt before. But strangely, that overpowering despair did not come with it. Thanatos huffed a stray lock of hair out of his face, wondering. He could not say why his words fell apart every time he talked to Zagreus recently, nor why his body temperature rose at the sight of his dark, swept hair. 

All he knew was that there was something about him that felt like medicine: an infusion of life back into his veins. 

_ He gives me life. _ Thanatos reiterated it in his head. He decided it was better not to stay away, after all.

_ Some God of Death I am, _ he thought, but he felt himself smiling all the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if some of the dialogue sounds familiar, then you have a good memory lol
> 
> regardless, this will prob be the first and last time i use dialogue from the game. supergiant just has some killer conversations, ok
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	4. Progress

Work was still work, and Thanatos dutifully took soul after soul. He had been doing this for so long that the faces had long stopped sticking in his mind, and instead blurred together into a stream of dulling eyes and last words. He helped Zagreus out a few more times in the interim; their battles together were exhilarating moments of bliss, but Thanatos could never stay long. People, it seemed, just couldn’t stay alive.

After a particularly nasty run on the surface (a small territory war had cropped up-- those were always brutal), he decided to spend time in the House of Hades, mostly to check in on the small family he had there. 

Hypnos was in the main hall; he babbled on about lists and shades and who knows what else. “What about you, brother?” he asked Thanatos eagerly after he was done. 

Thanatos sighed and mumbled something about work. “Always work with you, huh,” his brother said, grinning. 

Hypnos was always so chipper. Thanatos had no idea how he kept it up so much, and he told him so. “Lots of beauty sleep is my secret! Maybe you should try it too, it would be nice to see you less glum all the time.” 

With this, Thanatos sighed again, and said goodbye. 

He met Nyx near the garden. A smile spread across the goddess’ face as she saw her son. “Thanatos. How are you, my child?”

“I’m good, mother, thank you.” He saw her face crease with worry as he approached, and he held up his hand. “I know I look a little ragged. Everyone has told me, believe me. But I promise you I’m doing well.”

Nyx lifted a hand to her son’s cheek. He closed his eyes to her cool touch, a brief moment of comfort. “You have always been so independent, my child. And so strong.” She studied his features closely. “Do not feel like you have to carry your burdens alone.”

Thanatos swallowed, and Nyx removed her hand. She drifted back. “I am off to meet Master Chaos. I will see you around here soon, I trust.” He lifted his arm and waved as she left.

Alone, Thanatos drifted into the garden again, felt the foliage envelop him once more. He remembered the last time he was here. He felt braver now, he supposed, and the ache in his heart had lessened a bit, though he could not put his finger on what exactly eased it so. Regardless, it was progress. He was tired, but felt stable. 

Restored, he turned to leave. Seeing Zagreus in the doorway almost made him drop his scythe. “Y-you!”

Zagreus stared back. “You, too,” he replied, sounding amused. 

Thanatos’ hand went to push back his hair. “Sorry. I was just-- surprised. You’re back.”

“I am. Made it all the way to the surface this time, too.”

Thanatos smiled. “Tsch. Isn’t that your job, Zag?”

Zagreaus rolled his eyes, though he was smiling, too. He turned to leave, but Thanatos saw him freeze midway. When he turned his back, his expression had shifted, in a way Thanatos could not describe.

“What’s happened?” Thanatos asked him. 

Zagreus’ voice was soft. “You look tired, Than.” 

Thanatos scoffed. “Yea, I know.”

Zagreus tilted his head towards his room, and spoke words that almost made Thanatos choke. “Do you want to come lie down with me?”

They stared at each other. Thanatos’ voice caught in his throat; he knew he could not deny him. Zagreus gave him a sly grin and walked into his room.

After one more moment of hesitance, Thanatos did the same. 


	5. Sleep is for the dead

Thanatos had not been here for a while.

He remembered this room well, from his youth. It had seemed massive back then: Zagreus’ bookshelves towering impossibly high above him, perpetually cluttered with toys and knick-knacks and who knows what else: his mother’s mirror, dazzling and inky-black, rising highest above them all. Thanatos caught his reflection in it now as he passed. He stared at himself, at the dark lines carved under his eyes that felt all but permanent in his face’s topology, at the dull glint of his irises, oddly honeyed in the candlelight. This body of his, that he had grown into long ago, suddenly seemed too big.

Zagreus was always asking to play, he remembered. And always Heroes. Zagreus had heard the stories from Achilles, who doled them out as rewards for tireless hours of training. It was amazing Zagreus had energy left at all after those sessions. _I am Hercules, and you are the Nemean Lion_ , Zagreus would declare, clambering on top of his bed, his eyes bright. When Thanatos had complained-- the Lion had no other fate than defeat, after all-- Zagreus had paused, his face scrunched in what Thanatos had feared was resentment.

Instead, Zag had smiled. _Then I am the Lion,_ he revised. He crouched down to be on all fours, then launched himself with a roar as Thanatos had screamed with glee. 

Now Zagreus lay sprawled on his bed, making himself comfortable while Thanatos lost himself in memories. “Why are you just standing there?” he called. 

Thanatos glanced at the bed, glanced away. “I’m just thinking,” he murmured honestly. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here, Zag.”

Zagreus followed his gaze across the room. “Feels the same as it always was, I bet,” he mused.

“Actually, it’s a hell of a lot messier.”

Zagreus grinned. “Alright, O Death Incarnate. Get over here. Isn’t sleep for the dead?” He patted the space beside him and Thanatos went hot. He shook his head.

“I don’t sleep,” he mumbled. Everything about this place made him unsure-- caught between eras, emotions. His eyes flickered back to Zagreus’, and he saw that his smile had faded, his brow now creasing in concern.

“I’m just asking you to lie down, Than,” he said softly.

What else was he supposed to do? As if he were moving through water, Thanatos slowly made his way over to the other side of the bed and gingerly lifted himself onto the sheets. His muscles relaxed on their own accord, and he felt a wave of fatigue wash over his limbs almost immediately. He exhaled sharply. “I’m tired,” he admitted, mostly for himself. He did not doubt Zagreus knew this already. 

For long moments they both stared at the ceiling. Thanatos could feel him breathe beside him, slow and measured. Hadn’t they been like this, before? Begging for sleepovers; elated when Hades and Nyx had finally permissed it; whispering about their fears and resolutions in the safety of eternal darkness.

“It feels like so much has changed since then,” Zagreus said, as if he had been thinking about the same thing.

“It has,” Thanatos spoke bluntly to the ceiling. 

Zagreus was silent. Thanatos felt a pang of guilt at his words, despite their truth. He searched for something else to say. “But they’re changes for the better, I think. I mean, your mother coming back, and you have a real role here, one that you like...”

“I’m sorry,” Zagreus’ voice came. “For not saying goodbye, that first time. I know it’s been a while since then, that we’ve made up and all that. But I don’t think I’ve ever said I was sorry.” 

Thanatos wondered if the room had grown colder. He sighed, then shifted towards him. “Zagreus,” he began, and then startled. Zagreus was already on his side, staring at him. He hadn’t even heard.

“Do you forgive me?” Zagreus asked. Thanatos almost could have laughed. His voice just then felt so strange, so small and defenseless. Hardly the tone of a prince. Zagreus’ eyes searched Thanatos guilelessly. The nature of his own position struck Thanatos-- that he could so easily discard his pleea, crush it between his fingers if he wanted to. Or he could lean in, if he wanted to, too. He could do anything he wanted right then.

So then why did he choose this? Thanatos rolled onto his back and sighed. “Yea, of course,” he heard himself say. His heart beat in his throat as he waited. Zagreus was still for a moment, and then he seemed to shift away, too.

“Thank you,” he heard him say quietly. 

And that was it. The air in the room seemed to change, then, became easier to breathe. Thanatos stared up until the ceiling started to swirl, and then closed his eyes. He could not remember the last time he had slept, could not fathom what it had felt like. Faintly, he heard the breath beside him slow and deepen, until it beat with the undeniable rhythm of slumber. 

It was a comforting sound. Perhaps Zagreus could get enough sleep for the two of them, then. After some time Thanatos rose, and regarded the form of his friend resting on the bed. Even in unconsciousness Zagreus carried an intensity in his posture, his limbs taut with energy, with life. Thanatos crept away softly, and was nearly out the door when he heard his name called. “Than?”

Thanatos jumped. He turned to see Zagreus sitting up, looking at him drowsily. Thanatos opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say. “I--”

“You should come around more often,” Zagreus said with finality. Thanatos pressed his lips together and nodded. 

Zagreus lay down once again, and Thanatos took his leave. His head felt mercifully empty, clearer than it had been for a long time.


	6. Room Mates

And just like that, there was a routine. 

Neither one ever said the words. But Thanatos picked up on all the cues all the same. They’d be in the fields of Elysium, or maybe Asphodel, or Tartarus-- it didn’t really matter-- slightly panting after the heat of battle. Thanatos would begrudge a Centaur heart, and then Zagreus would stretch and yawn and coyly say something about needing a nap. Thanatos would disappear, maybe pick up a few souls if there was time, and then he’d find himself in the House of Hades. And then, he’d enter Zagreus’ room.

He never waited long. The Son of Hades brought an unmistakable energy with him, rich and powerful and magnetic. Thanatos would come to anticipate that pull of gravity, which brandished an exhausted and victorious smile. Occasionally, Zagreous would enter broodingly, mutter something about not worth the obols from Charon or too much heat as he flopped on the bed. 

Whatever intensity he brought, Zagreus would always mellow in time, his hardened face replaced with soft smiles. Usually, it was soon after he saw Thanatos waiting for him. They’d exchange words, banter and tease. Sometimes they’d just lie there, and Thanatos would be thankful for Zagreus’ presence in reach. Every so often, someone would actually sleep.

It became the highlight of Thanatos’ existence, the moments he most looked forward to while lurking in the shadows for the sickly, the wounded, the doomed. He would raise his scythe and think about the dark, smoky room, the warm bed with his body so incredibly close to his own. 

Today, Thanatos was waiting for him in the bed when the Son of Hades entered. Zagreus rubbed the back of his shoulder as he sat down on his side of the bed. “Made it all the way up,” he told Thanatos, grinning. 

“How did you go?” Thanatos asked. He had taken off his hood, along with most of his metallic armor, and the rest of his cloak now lay tangled beneath him in pools of fabric. 

Zagreus swung his legs up and put his arms behind his head, looking hesitant. Thanatos’ eyes traced the muscled curves of his arms. “I tripped off a cliff,” Zagreus finally said, each syllable clipped and a little terse. He stared at the ceiling as Thanatos stifled a laugh. 

Zagreus turned to look at him, making a playful face. “Oh, shut up.” Thanatos cast his eyes down quickly-- he did not think Zagreus had seen his eyes wander. He kept them trained in his lap just to be sure. 

“You’d be surprised by how many people go that way,” Thanatos murmured. He fiddled with his metal bracelet. “Mortal life is stupidly fragile sometimes.”

“ _ I’m _ fragile,” Zagreus groaned, outstretching his arms. Suddenly, Thanatos realized Zagreus had reached over him, and was readjusting the fabric of his cloak so that it draped off the bed. Every muscle in his body tightened at once, a lightning bolt running through his spine. 

Sensing him stiffen, Zagreus turned his head and caught Thanatos’ alarmed gaze. Zagreus’ eyes widened, and he withdrew himself quickly. “Sorry,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know why-- it was just bothering me?”

“It’s fine,” Thanatos said, spreading his clothes out some more, mostly to keep himself busy. “I agree, it’s a bother. Gets in the way a lot.”

Zagreus smiled at him. “Nah, I actually like it. When you  _ poof _ into existence, you look like one of father’s curtains. A moody, scythe-brandishing curtain.” He gave Thanatos a cheeky smile.

Thanatos felt the urge to blush and mumble, giving Zagreus clearly what he was going for. Instead, Thanatos leaned forward, reached towards Zagreus’ hair, and adjusted an end of his fiery laurel. He brushed back the god’s dark bangs in the process, and after his hand hovered near Zagreus’ cheek. It was so close to skin he was not sure if he had actually grazed it when Zagreus inhaled sharply.

Thanatos withdrew his hand, and they stared at each other. Thanatos was not sure how they had managed to get so close; even on the bed, they usually had enough space for a third between them. Now, Zagreus was so close that Thanatos could feel his breath. 

Zag’s eyes were unreadable, dark and determined and searching. His unrelenting gaze was unbearable. Thanatos laughed, his nerves getting the best of him. 

“It bothered me,” he said, his voice sounding strange. 

Zagreus swallowed, his eyes flickering away. “Sure.”

A silence filled the room, a tenseness Thanatos had not felt since that first time he was here. Suddenly, he knew that if he stayed here for a moment longer, he would not be able to stop himself. He felt himself propelled up. “I’ve got to go.”

Zagreus’ voice was pained. “Than, wait--”

“Work,” was all Thanatos said. His heart hammered in his ears. A part of him screamed,  _ what if it happened? What if he wants it, too? _ But the other parts of his brain screamed back, drowning out his hope.

Thanatos reached a hand in the air and let himself be whisked away. He didn’t look below him. He didn’t want to see.


	7. Life and Death

He returned to the surface. Pale sunlight shone on his face, and the sun rose over a shifting, unruly ocean. The air felt sharp in his lungs-- it always felt crueler here. To mortals, it was a finite resource, a thing they could only push and pull from their bodies a certain number of times. Only so many sunrises to see, and steps to take. Perhaps that was why they always felt so compelled to throw themselves into each other’s arms without much of a second thought.

But he was not mortal. And neither was Zagreus. How much did that matter? 

He tuned his ears to the wind, caught the familiar calls of the dying. A single plea rose above the rest, high and anguished. Something about the woman’s voice struck him, and soon he found himself inside a darkened hut, where it smelled of sweat and incense. The woman he had heard laid in a bed. Next to her was a cradle, a swaddled baby fast asleep inside. A man sat between them, rocking the carriage slowly with one hand, stroking the forehead of the woman with the other.

Thanatos peered closer. She was clearly ill. Her face was smooth with youth, but simultaneously ashen and strained, skin pulled tightly to the bony frame. Her eyes widened as Thanatos approached. The man paid no attention, and the baby barely stirred. Only those near death could see Thanatos.

“No,” she whispered to him through pale lips. “I am-- I have just--” She gestured helplessly to the cradle with trembling fingers.

He did not talk to his subjects often. He found that it was easier, for the both of them. Her reaction was as predictable as it could be; they were never not scared. And still he paused. 

“It’s alright,” he said gently, though he knew he had no right to say such a thing, not really. Whatever the Fates had in store for her family was out of his hands. 

He could pretend, though. He reached out to her. “Come with me. You don’t want to be late, do you?”

After a moment of hesitation, she took his hand. He pulled her from her body, and she slipped out without resistance. He whisked her away before she could see own body grow cold and limp, before the man beside her realized what had just happened.

They came to the Underworld, by the banks of the Styx. She gazed blankly out into the green waters. “He had just come home from battle,” she said. Her lips were barely moving. “My Love. I had just gotten him back.”

“I’m sorry,” Thanatos said. 

She stared at him, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. “Are you really?” she asked. “Can you really understand?”

Her words cut to his heart. Thanatos fell silent, lost in thought. He reached into his memory, pulled out ones he had tried to lock away. He relived the deep tearing in his chest when he had been told Zagreus had run away, the mind-numbing ache when he realized he had never even said goodbye. 

Thanatos swallowed, his throat dry. He thought back to his last interaction with Zagreus in his room, how he had drawn himself away. Suddenly, Thanatos felt as if a wave had crashed over him, knocking the wind from his lungs and leaving him gasping for breath. Thanatos knew in that moment: he would not lose Zagreus again. He refused to. 

“I can,” Thanatos said hoarsely. His tone seemed to satiate the woman, who turned back to face the water. He heard her exhale softly next to him, and then he watched her wander into the river. Her head disappeared below the sloshing waves, and she was gone. 

Thanatos took a deep, shuddering breath. In a flash of resolve, he brought himself back up to the surface. The wind blew bitterly on his skin, the ocean glittering in the distance. 

He knew he could not deny what he felt, but how to put those feelings into motion? Thanatos always seemed to falter when it mattered the most. Taut with worry, he jumped when he heard someone gasp behind him.

He turned. Zagreus was kneeling on a patch of snow before him, clutching his chest. Thanatos stared at him; he had not realized he had landed so close to the entrance of the Underworld. Zagreus’ eyes widened as they met Thanatos’, his words mouthing sounds that would not come. Instantly, Thanatos knew something was wrong.

“Zagreus?” Thanatos rushed to his side. 

Zagreus tried to smile at him, but it slid into a grimace, and Zagreus doubled over in pain. “I’m okay,” Zagreus managed, though clearly he was not. His eyes were shut tightly, creases bunching at the corners. “This-- this happens.”

Thanatos propped him up, alarmed at his own fear. Of course, he had seen Zagreus bleed all over the floors in the Underworld during their encounters, especially when the prince was just beginning his escapes. Yet something about Zagreus dying on the surface made Thanatos’ stomach turn. He had seen too much grief and loss here. 

“I’m sorry,” Thanatos heard himself say, words escaping his mouth before he could simmer in them for too long. “I shouldn’t have left you so suddenly like that. I was scared.”

Zagreus held his sides, groaning. “What were you scared of?” he asked, each word effortful. 

Thanatos clenched his hands. “I-- I don’t know. Of my own feelings? Of-- of what I would have done if I stayed, how you would have reacted?” Thanatos felt blood pound in his ears, his face flushing. Zagreus continued to writhe. 

Finally, Zagreus turned his head to gaze at Thanatos. “What would you have done?” Zagreus asked him, but the last word caught in his throat. Thanatos watched as his eyes dulled, his grip on Thanatos’ tunic slackening. His body slumped onto the snow. 

Thanatos kneeled over Zagreus’ body, numb. He barely registered when the pool of blood seeped out of the earth, washing over and swallowing the prince whole, leaving Thanatos in a crisp patch of snow. 

Thanatos was still; long seconds passed. Slowly, he felt his heartbeat steady, the adrenaline drain from his limbs. In Zagreus’ absence, and the words just spoken echoing in his head, Thanatos felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards. The scene that had just played: it was like a performance. And, inadvertently, Thanatos might have just said all the right words. 

Life and death, two sides of a coin that Thanatos knew all too well. He drew himself up. There was only one place to go.


	8. Butterfly

Back to House of Hades: Thanatos arrived in his usual position in the West Hall. He glanced around feverently, seeking that bright red of his tunic, the unruly black of his hair. Pacing down the hall, he passed Achilles, who lifted a hand in greeting.

“Achilles, have you seen--?” He stopped, seeing Achilles smile.

“The young master arrived a few minutes ago. I saw him head to his room,” Achilles said. Thanatos nodded tightly. He thanked Achilles, then crossed the main hall with his heart in his throat, breath shallow in his lungs. 

He arrived in front of the entrance of Zagreus’ room. Thanatos paused to gaze to his right, out into the garden. Trees framed the view, and ripe pomegranates glowed with ghostly light and swayed gently in the wind. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then let himself in.

Inside, the smoky atmosphere wrapped around him instantly, the air warm and fragrant. Zagreus stood in the middle, facing away from the door, the muscles in his back tightening, shifting as he turned his head. Their gazes met. Zagreus’ eyes shone with something unreadable. 

“My last question, on the surface,” Zagreus said quietly. “You haven’t answered it yet.” 

Like he was moving in a dream, Thanatos crossed the distance between them and reached for Zagreus’ face. He leaned in so quickly he could not even see the other’s expression when he kissed him. 

There was an initial moment of shock, of a bright, electrifying fear that shot through his body as their lips crashed together. Thanatos felt both their bodies tense, as if they had been jolted. Then, Zagreus’ mouth softened, opening under his. Thanatos pressed in closer, his hands moving from cupping his cheeks to gripping his hair. 

Their limbs knocked together, and Zagreus took a few steps back to lean onto his bed. His arms snaked around Thanatos’ waist; their torsos pressed together, and in his shock Thanatos could feel the heartbeats coursing through both of their bodies. 

After long moments they seperated, breathless. Zagreus’ face was flushed, his cheeks the same shade as his tunic. Thanatos was surely the same. They stared at each other, eyes wide, mouths still slightly agape. Thanatos saw Zagreus’ gaze slide from his eyes to his mouth. Wordlessly, Thanatos moved in again.

This time, the kiss was slower, softer. Thanatos tasted the sweetness of Zagreus’ mouth-- like warm honey, like fire and smoke from the hearth. He tasted blood, too, rich and alive. Zagreus pulled him closer, tightening his grip around his waist, and Thanatos felt himself shiver in his arms. Zagreus’ mouth smiled on his, and with one more powerful tug he brought both of them onto the bed. 

Thanatos’ mind emptied. As he lay there, watching Zagreus climb over him, he felt a lightness in his chest, a bright flitting sensation that smothered any coherent thought that entered his head. The only thought that stuck:  _ Let me stay here forever. _

Zagreus leaned down to kiss him, letting his entire body press into Thanatos, his arms gripping his face, caressing his neck. Thanatos felt his entire body electrified. He freed himself of his cloak and armor, and let himself press into Zagreus. 

He did not know what Zagreus would like; he kissed his jawline, his neck, and heard him moan with pleasure. Growing more confident, he felt his arms move almost instinctively; his hands caressed his face, ran along his shoulders, down his back. He peeled back his tunic, tugged down his trousers. 

Soon, his hands found what they were looking for. 

Thanatos moved slowly, finding a rhythm Zagreus liked. Zagreus clung to him, his breath hot and fast in the crook of his neck. 

“Than-- I--” He could not seem to get out the words. Eventually he just shook his head. “Don’t stop,” he whispered hoarsely. 

Thanatos felt himself smile. “I won’t.” He felt Zagreus’ fingernails dig into his back, and it was as if time slowed, space shrinking to just encapsulate them and that bed. 

Then, the release. Zagreus cried out, then shuddered, slumping onto the bed next to him. His breathing was ragged. Thanatos laid his head, too. His eyes traced over Zagreus’ face, his dark eye, the curve of his cheek, his lips.  _ This. I want this _ , he thought.  _ How did I ever think I didn’t? _

Zagreus turned to face him. He stroked Thanatos’ neck, tracing down to his collar, his chest. Thanatos felt his hand move more and more down his body, a pinprick of pleasure following underneath his skin. 

Zagreus was already propping himself up, shimmying off the last of Thanatos’ clothing. Thanatos wanted to close his eyes, surrender himself. But as Zagreus’ hand moved down, Thanatos suddenly caught it.

Zagreus met his gaze; Thanatos could only imagine how they looked now, wild eyes and flushed cheeks, chests heaving with anticipation, exertion. 

“Zagreus, I...” Thanatos trailed off. 

Zagreus leaned in, smiling, his black hair like a crown around his face. “Are you still scared?”

Thanatos felt himself come undone. “No,” he replied. He released his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo, we got there! 
> 
> there'll be one more chapter for these boys' happy ending :)
> 
> if you've read this far, thank you!! please let me know what you think-- a comment or kudos would be fantastic.


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